Shadow Rising: When Blood Cries
by wannabeWriter888
Summary: Episode 3: Tommy thinks he's found a solution to his vision problem, but having a normal life isn't as easy as he hopes. Meanwhile, Thea and Dinah team up to solve a possible murder and uncover something dark afoot. Oliver has questions for Helena Bertinelli. AU
1. Part One

_Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow. But I'm enjoying tormenting the characters in my made-up supernatural world._

 **A/N:** Mentions of a (perceived) suicide, not described, but just want to warn. If anything comes off as insensitive to those who've dealt with the situation, let me know and please give me pointers on how to better portray the scenario. Thanks for reading.

* * *

Starring:

Colin Donnell, Stephen Amell, Katie Cassidy, David Ramsey, Willa Holland, Audrey Marie Anderson and Megalyn Echikunwoke

Guest Starring:

Evan Roderick, Paul Blackthorne, Carly Pope, Roger Cross, Jessica de Gouw, Louis Ferreira, Susana Thompson, Venus Terzo, Austin Butler, Terrell Ransom Jr. (JJ Diggle)

Part One

Nick Anastas hurried along in the underground parking lot, a bag of groceries in his arms. He glanced around furtively, looking for someone watching him. He saw no one. Still, the hairs on the back of his neck were on edge. He reached the elevator and pressed the button to call the cart down. The counter stayed on floor six. Nick poked the button in swift succession until the counter started decreasing.

He shuffled into the cart and thumbed floor four. As the elevator doors shut, Nick slammed back into the far wall. For a second, he would've sworn he'd seen it. The monstrous red face that tailed him in the garage – it smirked at him, inches from the doors. Then the garage was cut off and the cart quickly rising.

A strange melody started playing immediately. Like a song in a ballerina box, only more haunting. The soft music chimed until the elevator stopped. First floor. The doors opened. Another tenant lumbered in, reeking of booze with a fresh bottle in hand. The man was so drunk he had to lean against wall to stay upright. It took him three tries to hit floor five. The doors shut, and the music began again.

"Where's that coming from? How do we make it stop?" Nick asked the other man. He looked around for the source of the eerie music.

"Huh?" the drunk replied.

"The music!" Nick scrubbed his ears as a sharp note entered the melody.

"What music?"

The elevator reached floor four. The music ceased as the doors popped open. Nick didn't bother to respond, he escaped into the safety of the hall. The elevator doors closed, the drunk shaking his head in exasperation. Nick headed for his apartment. Shifting his bags into one arm, he pulled out his keys.

He heard the low, threatening growl behind him. Toe-nails clinking on the laminate floor, picking up speed. He ran for his door, dropping the groceries in his haste. The beast barked, toes scrabbling, as Nick jammed his key into the lock. He flung his door open, jumped inside, and slammed the door shut. He waited for the brute to ram his door, to howl at his defeat. None came. Carefully, Nick eased his door open to peek out.

There was no black dog in the hall. Only his strewn groceries littered the floor. Nick shut his door and sunk to his haunches. He covered his face with his palms. Was he losing it? No, no he wasn't. He bit back a sob. How had his life come down to this? It was just stress from his job. It had to be. All he needed was a break from work, and from his apartment. Nick rose, to collect his groceries, and make some plans. Things would be better in the morning.

A hand reached for him from the shadow behind his couch. Nick yelped and scrabbled away. An arm followed the hand and then a second hand appeared. Nick dashed to his kitchen. There was another shadow-creature clawing out of the darkness cast from his table. Nick snatched up a kitchen knife.

"Stay away from me! Stay away!"

Blood splattered on the floor.

SR*SR*SR

Tommy Merlyn woke with an image in his mind, that of an oversized head. The head was egg-shaped and red with exaggerated features. Thick black eyebrows, mountainous cheek bones, and a bulbous nose with a tiny frowning mouth. The image freaked him out some, but also made him want to laugh.

Once he was fully awake, he pushed the image out of his mind. He pulled a pill bottle out of his nightstand. With a precision knife he quartered one of the pills and swallowed a fourth with the glass of water he kept on hand. He brushed the three remaining pieces into another bottle to carry throughout the day, taking as needed. Then he showered and changed, slipped the quartered-pill bottle into his pocket, and headed down for breakfast. The melody of a jewelry box echoed in his head, but he ignored the song. His medicine hadn't taken affect yet.

"Tommy," Oliver caught him in the parlor. The Queen had his signature sunglasses on top of his head – his mom didn't appreciate him wearing his shades to meals. Luckily, the angel could handle short periods of time without his cover; "Have you had any visions lately?"

"No, not really," Tommy answered cheerfully. Oliver looked worried, so Tommy let him in on the secret; "I've found a way to stop them."

"You have?" Oliver sounded dubious.

"I kept looking for a magical cure to my abilities. Then it hit me. Even if the root of my visions lies in magic, there's still a biological component – my brain. I've started taking small doses of antipsychotics, which has reduced my nightmares to zero."

"Tommy, I'm not sure that's wise."

"Why not? I'm sleeping well, not seeing things I shouldn't. It's exactly what I wanted. As for the meds, don't worry. I know what I'm doing. I'm the doctor, remember."

Tommy started for the dining room. Oliver grabbed his arm. For a second, Oliver's eyes did more than just flash white. Oliver emanated an aura of pure energy and Tommy glimpsed the humanoid-shaped angel which resided in his friend. Then Oliver reigned in his emotions and appeared as just Oliver again. Albeit a more worried, upset Oliver. "I thought you understood the importance of your gift. That you can't just walk away from your responsibilities, from the people who need your help."

"I'm a doctor, Oliver. That's how I help people. I heal them. I don't commune with their dead spirits or battle monsters. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to have breakfast before my first day at work."

Tommy pulled free of Oliver's grip. He stalked to the dining room, not as happy as he'd been before. Oliver's disappointment followed him, but Tommy remained convinced his way was best. He wanted nothing to do with the other worlds. He would keep to his pills and help people with real medicine.

SR*SR*SR

Hilton let Dinah drive them to the crime scene. Neither of them commented on how familiar a drive it was for her. The first officer on the scene filled them in as they walked down the hall. A bag of groceries had been shoved to the side and picked over. Dinah stepped over a squashed orange, wrinkling her nose at a scent underneath the pungent citrus.

"Vic's name is Nick Anastas, twenty-four. Lives alone in the apartment. His sister dropped by as she hadn't heard from him in a few days. She had a spare key, let herself in. Found the body."

"Thank you, officer. We'll take it from here," Lucas sent the patrolman out with a smile. Dinah barely tilted her head, already analyzing the scene.

The medical examiner was present, probing the body. The smell was stronger in the apartment and not the scent of a fresh corpse. No, this was something sickly sweet, but neither her partner nor the doctor appeared to notice. Otherworldly then. Dinah discreetly checked around the apartment for the source.

"What do we got?" Lucas asked.

"From the angle and direction of the wounds, I'd say a suicide," the examiner held up one arm for proof, retracing the direction of the kitchen knife; "I'll know more after autopsy."

"CSU will need to check the blade for prints, but I'd say this is straightforward. No signs of forced entry or a struggle," Lucas reviewed the public areas of the one-room apartment. Dinah stepped into the bathroom and bedroom, looking for anything out of place or pill bottles. She reported neither and failed to find the source of the reek.

They left the apartment to talk with the sister. The first responders had to call a bus for the woman who'd been severely distraught over her brother; "Listen, Lance, this case isn't going to be pretty. We aren't likely to walk away with any real answers for those left behind."

"I know that, it's part of the job," Dinah let some puzzlement into her tone as they waited on the elevator.

"What I mean is, I can interview the sister alone. You could always help the officers canvasing for witnesses," Lucas offered. They entered the elevator, but he didn't immediately hit the button for the first floor.

"I have to learn some time and I wouldn't want to step on the officers' toes," she answered and pressed the button for them; "Thank you. For the offer. Dad wouldn't want me to scrimp on the work just to visit him."

"Understood. Good to see you inherited your dad's dedication to the job," he complimented.

Dinah barely refrained from rolling her eyes. And here Lucas had been doing such a great job with not making the father-daughter comparisons.

SR*SR*SR

There were a lot of tears and outright denials from the sister. Dinah was relieved when the paramedics ended the interview to sedate the hysterics and transport the sister to the hospital. She wasn't sure how much more of the agony she could endure – faking sympathy, even professionally-distant sympathy, was exhausting. There was a reason she eschewed emotional attachments, the drama alone would easily drive one to an early grave.

A few of Nick's neighbors were available for questioning. Dinah told Hilton she needed a few minutes to recover from dealing with the sister. He promised she'd learn to handle the grief better with experience and headed up to start the interviews alone. Dinah walked back to their car, dropping her act of 'emotionally worn-out' as she went. She leaned against the passenger side door and waited, playing an app on her phone in boredom.

A small crowd had gathered once they realized something tragic had brought the police out. A barrier held the riffraff back as they whispered and gawked. The departure of the bus had caused a few to leave in disappointment. Those that stuck around lit up when the body bag was carted out a couple minutes later. Even in the maelstrom of morbid fascination and several otherworldly bystanders, there was no mistaking one specific presence in the vicinity.

Soon enough, said presence snuck around the barricade and joined Dinah at the car. "You know, you're in violation of several penal codes right now," the demon smirked beneath her shades.

"Arrest me then," Thea Queen snarked back.

"What do you want, hunter?"

"There was another death in the building. Was it a tenant? Murder?"

"It's an ongoing investigation. I'm afraid I can't share details with the public at this time," Dinah took great pleasure in delivering that standard phrase.

"I'm not here as a concerned citizen," Thea retorted hotly.

"I'm still a cop, kid. There are rules I have to follow," Dinah replied, serious. Thea huffed. "Fine. We still need to talk, but not here. There's more going on at this building."

Dinah snorted. She didn't need an upstart hunter to tell her that. Still, it wouldn't hurt to see what the littlest Queen knew. "There's a Big Belly Burger a block west from here. Meet me there at one. We'll talk then."

Thea nodded, then scurried away. Dinah pocketed her phone and sunglasses. She sighed as she headed back inside. Time to play novice detective again.

SR*SR*SR

No cellphones. No firearms. No touching. These words were painted in bold black on the egg-yoke yellow walls. As if the guards hadn't already divested him of the first and checked for the second. Oliver certainly wasn't going to do the third. Not with the woman he'd come to visit. Not that those who truly knew Helena Bertinelli would call her a woman.

Oliver waited on the bolted down bench at the equally bolted table. Less than half a dozen other families shared the visitation room with him. He'd enacted a small visual-inducement to make the tables nearest him unappealing, ensuring they wouldn't be overheard. Helena smirked as she sauntered over to him in a less-than-flattering peach jumpsuit. She'd taken a deal, plead guilty to a lesser charge for a reduced sentence in a county jail as opposed to a stint upstate in Iron Heights Prison. One could hardly tell with how she acted, like she owned the place – considering her power level, she probably did control the underbelly at this point.

"My, my, my. The great Oliver Queen. Here to visit little old me," Helena pressed a hand to her chest as if she were about to faint. Her eyes though were brittle ice; "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Your sisters have gone quiet again, but I know they aren't sitting on their hands, waiting for you. What are they up to?"

"Now, now," Helena rested her chin on crossed fingers; "We wouldn't want to spoil your dinner with dessert."

"You forget, Helena. I've been around a while. I know the outcome you desire," Oliver fed on a trickle of his power. Enough to send the witch blinking and dropping her gaze.

"So I'd heard. If you know everything, what do you need me for?"

"To provide the finer details."

"Now, why would I do that? So you can stop us? Not much of a deal compared to the offer my master has made."

"Your deal comes with a steep price. I can free you from that price."

"Maybe you can, but I doubt you would, and your word means nothing to me," Helena tossed her dark hair, then leaned forward conspiratorially and dropped her voice; "I promise you this, angel. You'll live to see my dream fulfilled. When I have the power I'm due, I will make you suffer for the pains you've caused me. You and your sister, the mutt and the unblood, and even your pet prophet. Dr. Merlyn, I believe?"

Helena's teeth gleamed viciously as she leaned back. Oliver maintained a passive façade – anger bubbling deep inside at the threats. His lack of reaction disappointed her, and she went to continue, but he cut her off.

"We'll see. But earning your power will be hard to do rotting inside a cell."

"Oh, what's a little incarceration to a witch?" Helena shrugged casually, back to her royal airs.

Oliver signaled to the guard. He left as another guard collected Helena. Her final taunt rang in his ears; "The time has come, Ollie!"

SR*SR*SR

Since being called as a hunter, Thea had been to unusual places in and around Seattle. She'd seen some scary and downright horrifying things. She'd conducted odd business meetings in ritzy hotels, reeking back alleys, and random spots in the woods with allies, informants, and the occasional enemy. She'd beheaded, slashed, and dusted her way out of a variety of live-or-die situations. Yet none of that prepared her for her current encounter.

Thea had been to Big Belly Burger before, if not this specific location. She enjoyed the greasy, high-calorie food which combated her hyperactive metabolism. She'd decompressed after many hunts, gorging herself in such joints. So, it wasn't the location that bothered her.

She'd made deals with demons before. She'd even slayed a few, though most of the time the slimy spirits were hard to pin-down long enough to properly vanquish – because of course exorcisms only worked in the movies. So, meeting a demon to swap intel, not that big of a deal. Sometimes, their interests aligned like that.

And confronting a face from her past who wasn't who they used to be. Yeah, Thea was practically a pro at that anymore. The highlights included an angelic brother she still wanted to throttle from time to time, a homicidal ex-boyfriend who was an elf she had to behead, and a mentor who turned out to be a cursed giant. Her brother's ex-girlfriend currently being possessed, no problemo.

It must've been the combination that unsettled her so. How she walked into the causal eatery to find Dinah had beaten her there. Not only that, but how relaxed Dinah appeared in the booth, joking with other patrons like she was a regular there. The demon seemed so human in that moment. She reminded Thea of Laurel, the woman who should've been living that life. And that made Thea livid and sad and conflicted, so she hung back until Dinah caught her eye and pointed to the seat across from her.

Thea stalked over. "Don't glower at me, hunter. You're the one who requested this meeting." At Dinah's signal, a well-heaped plate and drink appeared in front of Thea. She didn't want to accept food from a demon, but it smelled wonderful and she was super hungry. She see-sawed and nibbled on a fry. Dinah chomped down on her own meal, sipped her milkshake, and asked; "You have information for me?"

"Will you at least confirm someone died at the building today? I don't need details or whatever on an open case," Thea replied frostily.

"Technically, it was late last night, but yes, there was a corpse this morning," Dinah matched her frigid tone.

"Did it seem otherworldly to you?"

"I though you were going to be sharing, not pumping me for information."

"I'm trying to confirm a suspicion with the cooperation of an aware witness," Thea answered. Dinah simply arched an eyebrow and dipped a fry in her shake. "Fine. Did you know this is the sixth death in that complex in the last month? Two heart attacks, another suicide, and a murder-suicide."

"It's a rough neighborhood," Dinah shrugged, eating another milkshake-coated fry.

"There have also been ten felony arrests of people with no previous records. Seven evictions after well-to-do families suddenly lost all income. Some people are claiming the building's haunted and the otherworldies I know around here have become leery of the place."

"Have you investigated?"

"Of course," Thea scowled at the insult; "I haven't scented anything with the necessary ability to cause this broad of problems, but something is definitely off with the place."

Dinah titled her head a smidge in acknowledgment. So, the demon had sensed something after all. "This problem will need more than one head to resolve it. Your brother's still babysitting the green bean, so what you do say to being frenemies for this one case?"

She held out a pinkie to swear by. Thea worked her jaw – that was Laurel's move. Still, the demon had a point. Thea crooked her pinkie and they shook on it.

* * *

 **A/N_2** : To be clear, Nick didn't commit suicide, it just looks that way, but if I need to portray this better, let me know. Thanks.


	2. Part Two

_Usual disclaimers apply._

* * *

Part Two

His second day in and Tommy was beginning to get the swing of how things worked at the clinic. He'd interned and completed his residency at a high-class teaching hospital where every day felt like a Thursday night soap opera. The medicine had been inspiring, the cases bland to crazy, and his coworkers the quirkiest bunch he'd ever met. In the field hospitals where he'd spent the last year, resources had been limited, creative treatment required, and the men and women he saw 24/7 were the friends he needed to survive. A free-aid clinic was more like a field hospital without the living in a warzone. The cases varied from mild to occasionally interesting, treatments were more standard, and the jury was still out on his coworkers.

Tommy spent the morning shadowing Dr. Schwartz again, as he'd done the previous day. She wanted him to learn their methods and procedures before setting him loose on the clinic – an efficient way to prevent later miscommunications and disorder. This also gave the regular patients an opportunity to get to know him before he doctored them. Following Dr. Schwartz was not a simple watch-and-learn tutorial. She had him diagnosis the patients based on the symptoms she reported, quizzed him on the clinic's procedures with each treatment, and tested his memory by sending him to acquire any tools or medicines she needed. He was basically a glorified nurse, returned to his intern years, but he didn't mind.

Dr. Schwartz kept him busy and he learned quickly under her tutelage. The first vision snuck upon him as he was checking out some antibiotics. He blinked, and a strange symbol appeared on the paperwork in his hands. He would've drawn it with a straight horizontal line to begin. Then on the left side of the line, he would've completed a downward-pointing, right triangle that ended in the center of the horizontal line. Continuing up from the center of the horizontal line, he would've added a long vertical line. Near the top of the vertical line, another, short horizontal line popped to the right, before a short dip added a final vertical line down. A hangman pole with a base and a triangle underneath. The entire thing was made in drying blood. Tommy blinked again, and the symbol vanished. He finished the checkout and headed back to Dr. Schwartz. Along the way, he dry-swallowed another quarter-pill.

He graduated to supervised examinations midmorning. His first patient was a nervous young girl returning to get her stitches removed. He preformed a coin trick for her, getting her to relax before he fixed her leg. Then he helped a teenager after a skateboarding accident. A canker-some elderly man with arthritis and a heart-arrythmia next. Finally, a mother of three in for her six-month prenatal check-up. Then Dr. Schwartz sent him off to lunch.

He and a nurse with the same lunch hour walked to a deli a block away. Susan Williams had wanted to be nurse since she was five. She'd written for her high school paper and she didn't date doctors. Once Tommy promised to never, ever, hit on her, they hit off great. When he mentioned interest in finding a good apartment in the area, he found she was a wealth of information.

"I've been trying to find a decent place close to the clinic for the past year – the commute is a bear most mornings. Finding something I can afford is the real issue," Susan shrugged good-naturedly.

Tommy was about to reply when the second vision clipped him. He saw an apartment building detailed to the last brick. Mostly red with black-framed windows decades old. A rusted fire escape to one side. Graffiti on the corner leading to the side alley. Then the vision vanished. Susan looked at him, questioning. He waved her off. "Have you considered getting a roommate?" he asked, returning the focus to her.

When Susan stepped away to refill her tea, Tommy downed half a pill.

He returned a free doctor. The afternoon flew by with one broken arm, two allergic reactions, and a tetanus shot for one bird-attacked young boy in a tree. Tommy stayed to help clean up the clinic and learn the closing procedures. He hung up his new white coat in the multipurpose supply room – no name on the breast pocket yet, but soon. Susan wished him a good night as she headed for her bus stop. Tommy waved in reply.

He entered his mom's office with an empty box in hand. Rebecca Merlyn no longer needed the office space, but Dr. Schwartz did. She'd offered to ask one of the nurses to clean out Rebecca's personal effects. Tommy had volunteered instead. He wouldn't lie and say it didn't hurt to take down her pictures and pack away her costumes (he had his magic tricks, she'd pretended to be a superhero). Still, he could keep the mementos for himself and remember the good times with each piece.

Tommy picked up Rebecca's old bunny slippers. He moved to drop them in the box when another flicker found him. He saw a man's hand with a gaudy gem ring on the pinkie finger. When the flicker passed, he clutched his head in pain. A migraine threatening.

Why wasn't science prevailing?

SR*SR*SR

Thea found the demoness with her classic Impala, sitting a block from the apartment as promised. The blonde sat on the hood of the dark green coupe, tossing a knife up and down in her left hand.

"Did you have to wait until Mommy went to bed before sneaking out?"

"Did you come from stabbing another old friend in the back?" Thea snipped back.

Dinah smirked. She tucked her knife into a pocket inside her jacket. Then the detective slipped off her car and gestured for Thea to lead the way. Thea walked beside her instead.

"Why couldn't we do this search in the day, it's your case isn't it?" Thea grumbled as Dinah punched in the code to get them access to the building.

"Medical examiner ruled the wounds self-inflicted. Case was closed as suicide this morning. I have no more legal right to search this room than you. Besides, if I were here officially, I'd have _so_ much fun explaining your presence to my partner." Dinah wrinkled her nose when they stepped on the elevator. Thea couldn't smell anything, but her neck prickled. Something dangerous lived here.

The demon produced a set of lock picks and entered first. Thea followed with the dig; "I would've had us in faster."

"My bad, I don't usually spend my nights breaking into places I'm unwelcome."

They silently agreed to split up and search the apartment. Thea avoided the kitchen, where a bloodstain remained. At this point, she was used to blood and gore, even slime and sewers, and being covered in all of it. Still, human blood smelled wrong in her nose, like failure.

She headed to the bedroom, after quickly scouring the bathroom. The closet and dresser were a bust. When she peeked under the bed, she caught a whiff of something not human – or cat or dog. The room was in shadows, only moonlight and streetlight peeping in since they didn't want to draw attention to their illegal search. The light was enough for Thea, once she hefted the bed up on one side. She called Dinah into the room.

"Pig's blood I'd guess," the detective said after taking a sniff.

"I don't recognize the symbol, do you?" Dinah studied the elaborate hanging cross with a triangular tooth. She shook her head no; "You have any contacts who might know it?"

"Yes," Thea answered, thinking of one witch in particular. Then the demon asked for Thea's phone and she warily handed it over. Dinah snapped a picture after Thea hoisted the bed higher.

"Didn't want to waste energy thoughtographing it for me?" Thea snarked as she lowered the bed.

"An amateur move with the occult," Dinah scoffed and handed the phone back. It was a burner, so Thea could chuck it if the magic did anything funky to the device – she wasn't an amateur either.

"I've got something too," the demon led the way back to the kitchen. Both of them skirted the stain. Underneath the sink, Dinah pointed to an unassuming canvas bag about the size of a small handbag. Thea reached in for a closer look. The detective slapped her hand back. "That thing reeks of dark magic. You want to risk transferring it to you?" Dinah snapped when Thea scowled at her.

Dinah used the handle on a pink duster to life the bag out from under the sink and onto the kitchen floor. Thea glimpsed a tuft of brown hair, something gray and waxy-looking, and a vial of possibly blood. The demon went to the bathroom and returned with a couple of towels that she wrapped the bag inside.

"How did the police miss this?"

"They had no reason to search under the sink, not on a possible suicide. Besides, they wouldn't have recognized the danger any more than you," Dinah held the bundle out to Thea, unruffled; "Take this to your contact, see what they say."

"Sure thing. Want me to fight the witch behind this while you drink another milkshake and watch?"

"Only if you include some fries," Dinah smirked.

Thea growled under her breath. Did the demon have to have a retort to everything?

SR*SR*SR

Lyla Diggle was counting inventory when the bell to Wick and Jar rang. She immediately went on high alert. She hadn't unlocked the front door yet – she had a half hour before she opened. Lyla grabbed her gun in case the intruder was human and an amulet for if they weren't. Making no sound, she inched towards the curtain hiding her from view.

"Sorry about the door," Thea Queen called back; "I'll pay for that. I thought I saw something following me."

Lyla lowered the gun but kept both forms of protection on her. She pushed the curtain aside and stopped dead in her tracks; "I'm sure you did. What are you doing with **that** in my shop?" she snapped.

"Found it in the apartment of a recent death. I was hoping you could tell me what it is," Thea answered warily.

Some of Lyla's anger dissipated at the explanation. Still, she didn't like having dark magic in her shop. She could already feel the negativity affecting her more sensitive items. "Put that there," she directed Thea to a glass countertop. The crystals stored below would contain the magic's field of energy.

As Thea obeyed her instructions, Lyla bustled about her shop collecting ingredients. Salt to neutralize the malice. Sage and sandalwood to cleanse the air and heart. A little citrine to realign the energies and mind. First though, Lyla pricked her finger and let three drops fall directly into the heart of the bag she exposed. The magic in her blood negated the dark power held in the infused objects. She saw Thea's nose flare at the sight of blood, not quite human but good enough the hunter couldn't scent her as a sister of the moon – daughters of the night, they were a different story.

"You said you found this in a recently deceased's apartment?" Lyla prompted.

"Yeah, been a lot of suspicious activity around the building lately. Nothing I could pin on regular otherworldlies. I did some deeper digging with Dinah's help," here Thea rolled her eyes; "We found this, but even the great detective wasn't sure what kind of witch magic we were dealing with."

"That's because this isn't a witch's work, but a warlock's."

"You sure?"

"Witches can absorb and channel magic, we can even store it, but only warlocks can imbue their power into objects," Lyla held up the wax figurine she was cleansing. It would do the dead man no good now, but it would ease the dark magic's influence on the man's ghost.

"Then you know what it is?"

"The figurine is representational of the target, the hair identifying your victim to focus the magic. The warlock imbued his magic in the figure to continuously maintain any spells linked to your victim."

"What about that?" Thea pointed to a blood-red vial, wisely not touching the thing.

"A linked spell. Pig's blood, I'd guess, mixed with distilled fear and paranoia."

"There was this symbol under his bed, also in pig's blood," Thea showered her a phone picture.

"Psih. The mark of chaos and torment. Altogether, I'd say your warlock wanted your victim dead, but he didn't want the humans to link it back to him."

"So, we're dealing with a patient, murderous warlock. Got any advice for how to find him and stop him?"

"You said Dinah Lance is helping you? Then wait here, I just might."

SR*SR*SR

Tommy decided to look at an apartment over lunch the day after his talk with Susan. He'd already had an agent looking around for him and requested a showing based on Susan's suggestions – she'd figured out his tastes easily enough, a minimalist bachelor who loved a good story.

The apartment was a former hotel almost as old as the city. All modern conveniences had been added, including updated plumbing and electric, but retained the former elegance of the place. The old character of the building and much of the original hardwood flooring had been maintained. The product was a gem which Susan couldn't afford but was well within Tommy's budget.

The specific apartment he looked at was one of a kind on the penthouse level. The floor plan was open with large windows overlooking the city. Upon entry, the living room sat to the right on a raised platform. The kitchen and dining area lay to the left, a granite-top island separating them. Gorgeous views made up the entire far wall of the apartment. He could easily put in a table big enough for eight in the dining. Beyond the kitchen was the lofted master bedroom, bath, and closet. Below the loft, the smaller second room, second bath, a private laundry, and a flex space for an office or home gym. The private balcony, large enough to fit a small pool, also offered an excellent glimpse of downtown Seattle.

Tommy was practically salivating. He blinked away the flicker of a glass bottle shattering and continued to check out the amenities offered. His agent had to step away for a minute while they toured the public spaces of the roof. Tommy checked out the small bar provided and the flowerbeds. He needed to head back to work soon, and though he loved the place, he didn't want to be too hasty in his decision.

"Looking to rent?" A beautiful, black-haired woman in a gray tunic and patterned leggings asked him. She been sitting on the edge of a flowerbed when he arrived. He'd smiled politely at her and she's smiled hesitantly back. She still wore the hesitant smile.

"Possibly, I just want to take my time on the decision."

"Smart plan. People rush into thing far too quickly now. So hard to enjoy anything that way."

"I'm Tommy Merlyn," he stepped closer to hold out his hand. She sheepishly held up dirt-streaked palms; "Sorry, I'd rather not risk that nice shirt of yours. I'm Mari McCabe."

Tommy dropped his hand with an understanding smile. Mari tucked her hands behind her back. He nodded to the flowerbed she'd been working in. "Isn't it a bit late to be planting anything?"

"It is, but it's not too early to fertilize and weed," Mari smiled warmly.

"Do you live here?" he asked. Mari raised her eyebrows, her brown eyes twinkling at him; "Of course, I'm an idiot. Do you enjoy living here?"

"I do. The pool gets crowded around four; if you like to swim, nine's the best. The neighbors are great. Not too nosey, but very friendly. This place is also so close to the downtown attractions, you don't have to leave to feel apart of them. I have a feeling, a guy like you would fit right in."

Tommy wanted to ask her more, but a glance at his watch showed it was time to go. He thanked Mari, told her he might be seeing her around, then grabbed his realtor agent and left. He glanced back once at Mari and saw her waving wistfully.

SR*SR*SR

Dinah had some downtime after wrapping up a botched robbery. They had five other cases on their plate, but no leads or the evidence was in the CSIs' hands. As such, Hilton was shooting the breeze with some of the seasoned detectives from another unit while Dinah continued her side investigation into the Nick Anastas case.

She'd already verified Thea's claims of uptick in crime and evictions. She'd even terrorized a few local otherworldlies to understand their change in opinion of the area – even among the otherworldly, demons like her were anathema. By all accounts, the general negativity of the building was a recent development. Dinah wasn't shocked. She'd been visiting the place infrequently for the last two years. She would've sensed a dark presence before now if it had always been there.

That led to her taking a closer look at the apartment and its history. She found some _interesting_ tidbits, but nothing that would explain the occult interest in the place. The building had been around for the last few decades. Before that it had been a department store, prior to that a parking lot, and for the preceding centuries only acres of wood. Digging deeper into the history of the land, Dinah found what she was seeking. For, despite the list of shell companies that tried to suggest otherwise, only a small number of families had owned the land, and the reason why soon became clear to her.

"Why are you looking into Nick Anastas's place?" Hilton asked. He held a report they'd been waiting on from CSU.

"Listening to his sister, her denial that he would take his own life, I guess I wanted to be thorough. To understand what might've drove him," Dinah picked the first lie that came to mind. Something in tune with Laurel's big-hearted nature. She ignored the tear-streaked face that came to mind, all part of the act, including the tightening she felt in her chest at the memory; she didn't care, she didn't – or so she convinced herself.

"Lance," Lucas sighed. He'd warned her about letting cases get too personal. She held up a hand to stall him.

"I know, his reasons were personal. Whatever he was thinking or feeling in that moment, I'll never know, but I needed to try, and I found something odd," she paused to gauge his reception of her lie.

"If you have a hunch, spit it out. I trust your instincts, Dinah."

"Six months ago, a development company began buying up properties nearby. Rumor is they're looking to regentrify the area. The current owners stand to make millions, if they can sell their property within a year. Their only problem is their lease-agreements, which guarantee two years minimum, provided the tenants meet their end. The redevelopment group isn't likely to be keen on a building they can't tear down in the near future. Yet, in the last four months, the apartment has suddenly lost half its occupants to crime, death, or thirty-day evictions. A startling departure from previous years."

"And you're thinking what? Tenant-abuse, force-outs?"

"I'm not sure, but I'd like to keep looking. I don't want to pull you into what might be a goose-chase for nothing, though."

"The Anastas case is closed, if you're going to keep investigating, best to do it on your own time and out of the sergeant's sight. Keep me updated if anything pans out."

"Will do," Dinah agreed, adding a silent, ' _not'_.

SR*SR*SR

"Oliver why aren't you at your bar?" Moira asked when he found her and Tommy sharing a pre-dinner drink in the parlor.

"I decided to let my manager handle things, so I could spend time with you," Oliver replied with his boyish grin. Moira arched her eyebrows, disbelievingly, but then she shrugged and smiled. She rarely questioned his motives these days.

"How nice, a family dinner in the middle of the week," she looked between both her boys. Tommy mustered up a grin for her, while Oliver dropped his smile. "Afraid not, Thea texted me a bit ago. She's probably going to be late, her tutor had to push back their session."

"Well, I'm just glad she's taking school so seriously," Moira nodded, a little disappointed but mostly proud.

Thea didn't need a tutor to pass her classes, she studied well on her own when she had the time. Still, it was an excellent excuse they favored when covering for her early evening hunting – tonight she was after a basilisk. Oliver wanted to be around when she returned, in case she needed any extra patching up that her accelerated healing couldn't handle.

When Moira stepped out to speak with Raisa, Oliver spotted Tommy swallowing an entire pill of his so-called cure an hour before dinner. The flutter in Oliver's head grew worse every day Tommy insisted on taking his medication. Oliver had hoped his friend would see reason on his own, but clearly an intervention was in order. To that end, Oliver pulled Tommy aside for a chat.

"You cure isn't working, is it?"

"Finding the proper dosage is a game of trial-and-error, but I'm getting there," Tommy denied defensively.

"If you keep this up, you're only going to hurt yourself."

"I know what I'm doing," Tommy waved him off; "But you should keep an eye on Thea. I saw something funny, like a veil, covering her eyes. It might be nothing, still."

Then Tommy stalked away. A stronger intervention would be required in the future. In the meanwhile, Oliver had his little sister to worry about first.


	3. Part Three

_Disclaimer: I still don't own Arrow, sigh._

* * *

Part Three

Thea met Dinah at the diner again, after her afternoon class. The detective was off-duty; her service weapon and shield missing. This time it wasn't as off-setting to see the demon relaxing in jeans and a t-shirt, chatting with the big-bellied cook of this Big Belly Burger. A plate of food greeted Thea almost as soon as she sat down, and she greedily accepted the offering.

"A'right, so Lyla says we're dealing with a warlock, not a witch."

"Good to know. I think I've figured out what he's up to," Dinah spread an antiquated map between them. Thea thought it vaguely resembled Seattle, but the annotations were wrong, no streets existed, and random patches were color-coded.

"What is this?" Thea wanted to know. It sort-of remaindered her of a map in her hunters' repository.

"You know about the old ley line? Well, before there were settlers, ley magic protected this entire area. The ground soaked in the power, but the land lacked the ley's defenses against otherworldlies. When the ley magic receded, the land lay power-infused and free for anyone to harness."

"Which is why so many otherworldlies flocked to Seattle. They drained the land of its power, then stuck around. Save me the history lesson, get to the juicy bits," Thea drawled. Dinah shot her an unamused glare.

"As I was saying, the land was free to harness. Most of the power was bleed off over the centuries," Dinah traced the regular colored portions of the map; "Some built up the power to create sanctuaries for the otherworldly;" blocks and circles of blue on the paper; "Other fouled the power, creating chaos that manifests as crime-ridden areas;" This time she tapped a dark brown blotch.

"Lemme guess, the apartment sits on a fouled piece."

"Worse. The building rests on one of the few preserved lands," Dinah circled a small green triangle; "The power here hasn't been harvested for good or ill-intent. Until now. The murders and suicides. I think the warlock is using them to curse the land."

"Cursing, not like fouling I take it."

"Ever been to the Martha Washington School for Girls? That's cursed ground."

Thea shuddered. Many humans believed the now-park to be haunted, or a hoax. Having been there once since her calling, Thea could sense the murderous rage that lived in the trees, near where the school once stood. Ollie had told her there was nothing she could do to destroy that malignant force, so she avoided the area as much as possible.

"No one remembers the truth about the school which taught difficult girls, but over decades there were a lot of covered-up deaths there and more sacrifices even after the school closed down," Thea had read preceding hunter reports on the location when learning about the otherworldly; "If that's the prerequisite for cursing the ground, then we find and stop the warlock. With him gone, the process will be halted, right?"

"You'll have to call up Lyla or another magically-inclined friend to cleanse the taint, but pretty much," Dinah rolled her map back up. Thea itched to take a picture for her records – information was power.

"So, any ideas for how we find this warlock? Walk around until your spidey senses tingle?" Thea smirked.

"My ability won't work if the warlock is masking his power or under a cloak."

"What about your amulet?"

"That will only reveal him if he's near us and under a cloak. It won't help us find him. We'll have better luck locating his workshop."

"Okay, how? And how is that better?"

"A warlock can't mask or cloak that much dark magic indefinitely. Eventually, he'll visit to tinker with his spells and I'll track the location by smell. Once we get close, you'll probably sense it in some way."

"You can smell dark magic?"

"Sometimes," Dinah left her answer at that; "Dealing with the warlock when we find him will be the true test. Don't suppose your friend Lyla volunteered to help?"

"No, but she gave me this to give to you," Thea pulled up her bag and produced brass knuckles which had been cast from otherworldly iron. She slid them discreetly across the table. Dinah scowled at the sight but covered the weapon with her hand; "You know what they are? How to use them?"

" _Incisura umbra_ and yes."

Well, okay then. Lyla had told Thea the name, but nothing else. She'd assured Thea that Dinah would know how to use them, and it was best she not explain how. Thea still wanted to know, but she could see when questioning would be pointless. At least Dinah didn't ask how a witch had acquired a demon weapon. Lyla had partially explained her side business with those that hunted and slayed the nasties, but that had been shared in trust. And Thea didn't trust Dinah more that the length of her pinkie.

"If you're scenting the workshop, how exactly is this going to work? We gonna wander around until you catch a whiff?"

"No, we'll do this like any good investigation. We start from the beginning."

SR*SR*SR

They started back at Nick Anastas's apartment door where the scent had been the strongest. With the imbued object gone and Nick dead, the scent was fading fast, but Dinah managed to pick up its distinct pattern. They followed the reek back to the elevator where it mixed with others, too many to distinguish separate trails. In the underground garage, she had better luck. Everyone spread out to get to their assigned parking and she located a scent even stronger than Nick's had been. This one had extra menace associated with it.

Thea grumbled as they had to follow the taint up the stairs to the fifth floor, but Dinah couldn't help the path. The scent led them to an apartment door, three down from the elevator. The reek mingled again with other dark magic objects on the floor.

"Hold up," Dinah yanked Thea back when she went to kick the door in; "This might not be the workshop."

"But you said –!"

"This was the strongest scent, doesn't guarantee it's the warlock's place. This doesn't feel right," Dinah grimaced. She'd been hoping for a quick resolution too. But she would've known if a warlock lived on this floor. She would've scented his magic five months prior at her last visit. Even a warlock needed time to work his mayhem and the apartment problems had only begun four and a half months ago.

Against Thea's objections, and insults, Dinah knocked. A middle-aged woman answered, a toddler at her hip. "What do you want, Dinah?" she snapped. Dinah knew the face, but not the name. Entirely human and more stressed than usual to Dinah's senses – easy prey if she were interested in that kind of thing.

"I'm here on business, I have some questions about Nick Anastas," Dinah flashed her badge. The woman scowled.

"I know nothing about that."

"Did you know if he was seeing anything strange or disturbing in the weeks leading up to his death?" Thea piped up.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't know him at all," the woman denied, but her fear was palatable. Dinah didn't remember her being a woman easily spooked. The toddler squirmed, wanting to be let down. When the woman bent over, Dinah caught a glimpse into her living room. She saw the boxes being filled up.

"You're moving?"

"Yes," the woman replied curtly.

"Why?" Thea inquired brusquely. Dinah wanted to glare at her to be quiet but couldn't risk letting the woman think of shutting the door.

"I have my reasons, and the new manager certainly doesn't help. He practically encouraged me to leave," the woman huffed; "Now if you'll leave me be, I have packing to do."

The door slammed in their faces, preventing any more questions on their part. Still, now they had a lead.

SR*SR*SR

They returned to the elevator and rode in silence towards the first floor where the manager lived. Dinah revealed her research had shown the building had been sold to new owners about five months ago. They'd likely installed the new supervisor then, because the previous one had been a helpful, cheerful man in his seventies. Thea asked how the demon knew the previous manager; the detective failed to answer.

"If the new manager is the warlock, I should question him first, alone."

"Why? So you can make a deal with him – save him from the hunter in exchange for a future favor," Thea had been back-stabbed like that before.

"In case you've forgotten, I don't like dark magic users any more than you. They're rather fond of binding my kind to do their bidding," Dinah snapped; "I don't want this one catching onto our real motives until we know what his endgame is. Your presence, bit of a dead giveaway." Thea conceded to logic, silently.

The elevator dinged at the second floor. The doors opened and someone disheveled spilled inside, smelling of alcohol. Dinah tensed so suddenly, Thea thought the boozed man was their warlock for half a heartbeat. Then the man righted himself on the wall and slurred; "Laurel?"

"Dad," the detective frowned, refusing to acknowledge Thea. Upon closer inspection, Thea vaguely recognized Quentin Lance. She'd only met Laurel's dad a handful of times and had only seen him once in the last four years.

"Thought I told you to stay away, an' stop paying my rent," Quentin hiccupped.

"I thought I told you to lay off the bourbon. Guess neither of us listened," Dinah steadied the elder Lance. Then she reached around him to key in floor five.

"Who's this?" Quentin turned his bloodshot eyes on Thea.

"My new partner," Dinah quipped. Quentin scoffed. The first floor arrived, but Dinah stayed in the cart, watching Quentin. Thea stayed too.

"I'm investigating possible lease violations in the building," Thea fibbed. She'd done better ones, but Lance was drunk, so she wasn't too worried. "What do you think of the new building manager?"

"Jerry Everett? He's a real piece of work," Quentin replied and added a few choice descriptions of the man and his parentage. Dinah guided Laurel's dad down the hall and propped him next to his door.

"Do you know if he was pressuring Nick Anastas to move out?"

"Who isn't he trying to scare off?" Quentin grumbled; "Hey, you're the other Queen. What are you doing with the likes of her, Laurel?"

"Whatever I please. Which you don't get to voice an opinion about until you're sober," Dinah shoved Lance into his apartment. Then she shut the door, drowning his angry retort into an incomprehensible bellow. "Let's go."

Thea followed Dinah out of the building, neither one of them speaking. Thea watched the demon out of the corner of her eye, puzzled. She knew demons who liked to pretend to be their hosts to mess with their victims' loved ones, but she'd never heard of one caring for their human's father. Dinah said and acted like she didn't care for human attachments all the time. So, why make an exception for Lance?

SR*SR*SR

Tommy had made it nearly a week without night visions and only the occasional daytime flicker. His medical solution was working. Except for the part where he was popping two whole pills to keep the visions at bay. He'd picked a milder antipsychotic because he didn't fit the typical profile to justify the prescription. He wasn't on the max dosage yet, but he might need to switch to a stronger version. He wasn't keen on the idea, but perhaps that was all he needed. Something to think on over the weekend.

"So, there's this great bar off 8th Street, some of the other nurses and I like to go there to celebrate the weekend. We normally have a no-doctors' rule, but I think I can convince them to make an exception for you," Susan chirped in between patients.

"Promise to protect me from the doctor jokes?" Tommy grinned cheekily. Susan pretended to ponder his request; "I guess, just this once."

"Then I'm in. Text me the time and the place."

He treated some minor burns from a cooking accident, the symptoms of an allergic-to-everything patient and sent medicine home with twins who both had strep throat. A bout of flu arrived after lunch and with it the flash of Dinah, her eyes glittering black like an insect's and her face ghastly. Tommy refused to let visions ruin his afternoon or evening plans. He'd already taken two pills which had been his self-prescribed limit, but one more wouldn't hurt. Just enough to see him safely into the weekend.

The shadows stirred in the afternoon. Tommy only had two charts left. He ignored the unnatural movements as best he could, even when the shadows started whispering. "Hey, Tommy. Are you okay?" Susan's face blurred his sight until he blinked her into focus. "What? Oh, I'm fine. Just a little brain-fried," he joked. He grabbed the antibiotics he'd come for and refused to look at the darkened corner where a shadow-person had been climbing out.

His head felt fuzzy as he greeted his last patient. Tommy set the chart down on the little counter in the exam room. His back was to the patient, letting him quickly massage his forehead. When he turned around a shadow leapt at him from under the exam table. Tommy yelped and jumped back. He lost his footing and landed on the ground, his head smacking against the counter's edge. More shadow-hands grabbed at him, swarming. Tommy was dimly aware of a sharp pain in the back of his head, the patient shouting for help, and Susan's worried frown. Then the shadows consumed him – covering his eyes, stuffing his ears, and choking down his throat as they wrapped all around his body like a constricting snake.

SR*SR*SR

After their unfortunate encounter with her father, Thea had been much too agreeable to Dinah's plan to question Jerry Everett on the sly. She didn't appreciate the questioning look in the hunter's eyes. She didn't need to explain her motives to anyone. When she needed, she took. When she wanted, she had. She might play her games differently than the others, but she was a demon. End of story. She didn't want Thea looking any deeper than that.

Her father had given her a name, so Dinah researched Jerry Everett. She uncovered his real identity easily enough, Jerry Bertinelli. A cousin of Helena Bertinelli. Definitely a warlock, and likely a cunning one, if not powerful, considering how long he'd survived in his murderous family.

Dinah already had proof the Bertinelli family owned the apartment building through a shell corporation. Adding Jerry's real identity and the tenant complaints to the mix provided her the proof she needed to convince Hilton something hinky was going down. She may have mentioned being concerned for her dad, to butter Lucas up to the idea – they technically had no jurisdiction to investigate leasing abuses, but that didn't mean they couldn't poke around.

She promised Lucas that she was only interested in rattling Bertinelli's cage. Let him know the police had an eye on him, should he be up to anything criminal. In truth, all Dinah cared about was getting a peek inside his apartment. See if she couldn't locate his workshop without him suspecting her purpose. Because now that she knew a Bertinelli was involved, she knew what the cursed ground would be used for.

"Detectives, what can I do for you this evening?" Bertinelli greeted them warily.

"May we come in? We have some questions," Hilton asked politely.

"I see," Jerry gestured welcomingly, but not voicing an actual invitation. His eyes narrowed as Dinah passed him. She flashed the warlock a quick smirk behind Hilton's back. _You see me, and I see you_.

"So, what's this about?"

"We're looking into accusations of your tenants being pressured to leave before their leases are up," Lucas explained while Dinah scanned the living room. It looked like the typical, middle-age bachelor's pad. No surprise there.

"And you suspect me? Why?" Jerry played perplexed.

"You tell us, Mr. Bertinelli," Dinah cut to the quick.

"I prefer Jerry Everett, if you please. My family has a bad reputation, you see. One that often leads people to assume things which aren't true about me."

"So, you aren't forcing out tenants for a kickback from your family?"

"No. I would never do that," Bertinelli faked affront.

"Then what do you call the increase in broken leases and deaths in your building these last few months?" Dinah shot back.

"Unlucky coincidences, which hurt my employers. Surely you can see that such a loss in revenue is bad for a leasing business?"

"You expect me to believe this is all a bunch of bad luck?"

"Certainly, Detective Lance. You know, I have a tenant by the name of Quentin Lance. Is that a coincidence?"

"Not at all," Dinah shot him an icy smile; "In fact, it's why this matter is of great, personal interest to me."

"I assure you, Detective, nothing untoward is going on here. Your father has nothing to fear," Bertinelli smiled, but the gesture didn't reach his lifeless eyes.

Hilton heard the undercurrent of the threat and looked ready to haul Bertinelli in for further questioning – he was protective of his old partner. Dinah stalled him with a request to use Bertinelli's bathroom. He sent her down the hall and she passed a second bedroom on the wall. She knew better than to touch the door or try the handle. Even if she couldn't sense the magic, a warlock could imbue even objects as simple as those. Dinah made a show of using the bathroom, then trailed her hand along the wall on her way back. A shield pulsed beneath her fingertips. Bertinelli's workshop hidden in plain sight. With Lucas helping her, she'd get a look inside soon enough.

SR*SR*SR

Helena knew the moment the sun set without the aid of a clock. She could feel the night calling to her along her scars. The potent power in her blood stirred. She feigned sleep in her bed until her cell block settled down. Then Helena slipped off her bunk and shed her clothes. Bare and bent in prostration, she chanted softly in a cursed tongue. The shadows answered her immediately.

Tonight, they did not grab her, to pull her to a dimension where no one could hear her scream. They didn't flay her body with wounds no one else could see. They didn't punish her as they had for the past five weeks since her failure. Tonight, the shadows twisted and conveyed the message Helena had hungered for since her incarceration.

With eager hands, Helena eased her hand under her cellmate's mattress. She freed the shank she'd made from a toothbrush. Her fingers flicked twice, then curled into her palm. The circle she'd carefully drawn with blood and hid, activated, shielding the cell. Another dance of her fingers immobilized and woke her cellmate. Helena grinned viciously as she drew her shank against her cellmate's skin. Her cellmate lived long enough to feel everything, but only Helena heard her scream.


	4. Part Four

_See previous chapters for disclaimer._

 _A/N: I'm totally taking liberties with how anti-psychotics work. If anyone has a better suggestion for what Tommy was taking that would "treat" his symptoms, let me know. Thanks for reading._

* * *

Part Four

Thea knew the detective and her partner had talked with Everett; a contact in the area confirmed it. Yet the afternoon turned to dusk and still no word from the demon. Thea gave her plenty of time to send even a short message: _hold_ , _working an angle_ , _not yet_. But Dinah remained radio silent and Thea got fed up with waiting. She'd sent the demon three messages, requesting some type of update to no avail. She waited, and Thea was not a patient hunter.

Once night set and with nothing else to go on, Thea watched Everett. She had a duty to stop whatever was going on, before another human life was lost. The demon detective didn't care about humans, so time wasn't of the essence to her. When Thea saw a danger, she answered, and she didn't care if that pissed the detective off. Human life came first. Ollie wouldn't like her taking the risk with Tommy's vision, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him in this case.

When Everett stepped out, calling a cab to pick him up, Thea found her opportunity. She needed, and she took. She wasn't certain how much time she had. Everett could be going to dinner half across town or on a short jaunt around the block for no particular reason than his own amusement. Thea worked fast. She jimmied the lock to his apartment, much faster than Dinah could have, thank you very much. Then she scoured the place with care.

Thea wasn't an amateur. She had more experience with witches than warlocks, and not much of the former. She wore an amulet of protection and gloves. She found envelopes with cash, lots of cash, sitting in a kitchen drawer. A list of names rested under the final envelope. Thea took a closer peak and saw tenant names, some crossed off in different colors.

She picked the lock on the second bedroom door, the only locked place in the whole apartment. The door clicked and swung inward without Thea touching the door knob. Sweat and decay assaulted her sensitive nose. She found the workshop on the other side. A wood table sat against one wall, a ritual circle occupied most of the floor. Thea spotted wax dolls on the table, glass jars with hair and other samples. There was also a Bunsen burner, a metal pot, and black candles to be seen. Thea smelled sodium nitrite under the decay, and poppy. The closet contained a curio of other supplies.

Thea would've poked around some more, but she heard Everett arguing with his driver over the bill. She'd kept her hearing extended for early warning, but she still had to hightail it out of his apartment. She snapped some pictures of the workshop for evidence – she'd already catalogued the cash and list. Everett was at the building's entrance, grumbling under his breath. Thea yanked the workshop door shut behind her and scrambled out of his apartment. She was safely tucked away in the stairwell when he reached his door.

Thea leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close one.

Little did she know, back in Jerry Bertinelli's apartment, the door handle she'd touched, even with the protection of gloves, now glowed a red symbol. The symbol of hauntings.

SR*SR*SR

"Are you out of your mind?" Dinah snapped the second the hunter finished explaining how she'd gotten photos of the warlock's work. A couple other patrons swiveled to look at her after her outburst. Dinah relaxed and smiled at them until they returned to their pre-dawn breakfasts. Then she glowered at Thea.

"I acted on intel," the kid crossed her arms defensively, ready to argue. Dinah cut her off with a sharp, sneering bark. "No, you reacted. Without thinking."

"I have the proof we need. Now we can take care of our warlock problem."

"You mean dispose of him, permanently, and draw the attention of the night coven behind him in the process," Dinah pointed out.

"So, what? They'll have no reason to suspect we know they're behind this."

"And they'll have no reason to stop. They own the property, the land. Do you think they'll let one death dissuade them? They'll send someone else to finish the job and they'll be prepared for us the next time."

"I don't see you offering any alternatives," Thea leaned aggressively forward on the table.

"I had a plan. One to prove Jerry Bertinelli is working with his cousins to unlawfully evict his tenants. The legal case would've kept them tied up for years, unable to act without provoking further suspicion. Better yet, since it would be the tenants suing the business, our hands would be clean. That plan has gone to the trash now, thanks to your recklessness," Dinah hissed. For a second, she let her eyes shift, to give Thea a taste of her displeasure. The hunter cringed and shifted back in her seat. Dinah sneered again.

"Bertinelli doesn't know I was in his place," Thea defended without her previous fangs.

"Warlock. Magic," Dinah ticked off fingers; "I could smell his power all over his apartment. Remember the spellnets we dealt with weeks ago, he can create his own version of those. Means he doesn't need to be in his place to know when it's been breached. You're lucky you didn't get tagged as well, a possibility with imbued objects. So, he knows. Which means he's going to disappear and take all the evidence with him, if he's smart. We can assume he is, considering how long he's survived in his family."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," Thea deflated.

"You don't know a lot, hunter," Dinah scoffed, but without her usual venom. She'd made her point, no use staying pissed at the littlest Queen. Not worth the energy, that was all.

"How do we fix this?"

"We don't. I will find a way to stop the cursing. You go back to fighting the otherworldlies you've been trained to kill."

Dinah pushed back her chair and dropped a twenty for her coffee. Then she strode for the door, leaving a confused and upset hunter behind her. She had to shove down the instinct to comfort Thea – Laurel's feelings, cropping up again. Dinah was a demon; she had more important things to do than indulge petty human emotions.

SR*SR*SR

Oliver knocked on the metal door frame before entering Tommy's hospital room. Tommy turned from the window to look at him. His friend looked paler than normal in the drab hospital garb. He didn't belong in the sterile place.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Oliver settled in the chair near the foot of the bed. Tommy snorted; "Physically, I'm better. The antipsychotics did a number on me, but they've mostly cleared my system. Up here," he rapped a knuckle to his head, "well, the visions are back full force. Guess you're happy about that."

"I would take this burden from you if I could, Tommy."

"But it's my responsibility and I need to step up to the plate," Tommy interrupted, sardonic.

"Why do you see this as a curse?"

"Why would I see it as a gift?"

"What makes you love being a doctor?" Oliver switched gears. He took a small amount of pleasure in watching Tommy gape at him a full minute in surprise. Then his friend closed his jaw and warily considered the question. Oliver waited him out.

"Helping people, making a difference in their lives, usually for the better," Tommy answered at last.

"You use medicine and your knowledge, but also tools, instruments, to do your job." Tommy nodded, though he knew Oliver was being rhetorical. Oliver continued; "Now, you have a new tool in your arsenal. One which allows you to help those in need in a different way. Your visions will change lives, they'll make an even greater difference than being a doctor."

"At what cost? My life, my sanity?"

"That's up for you to decide. But ask yourself, what's more important to you: being normal or saving lives?"

"Saving lives? I saw vision last night, one that felt like an echo. In it, a man is being tormented by shadows that aren't really real, trying to defend himself with a knife. A man watches him through a mirror, or something, and laughs. Then he makes a gesture with his hand, the way witches do, and he killed the man he was tormenting. How am I supposed to stop things like that?"

"With help, and not fighting your gift. That man who died, his name was Nick Anastas, and he died _**after**_ you started self-medicating. If you hadn't dampened your gift, you may have seen the danger in time, and we might've saved him together."

With those words, Oliver abruptly left Tommy to think. He'd been giving his friend as much time as he could, but now he had to start pushing for more than just Tommy's sake. Oliver would've stay longer, had wanted to stay, to reason with Tommy, but a fluttering in his mind told him that Thea needed him more.

SR*SR*SR

After her disappointing showdown with Dinah, Thea met up with a legit study group of hers. They were all cramming last minute for a Calculus test that Monday – sometimes, Thea wondered if her math teachers were evil witches in disguise, how else could they enjoy the subject?

Her group met in a coffee shop which served awesome almond bread. Thea was on her second loaf, quizzing a friend on definitions, when she spotted the clown. Pasty face, red nose, the whole Pennywise-vibe going on. She caught the first glimpse out of the corner of her eye, did a double-take, and shuddered at the gruesome sight.

"What's wrong?" her companion asked.

"I hate clowns," Thea explained. Her friend looked over his shoulder in the direction of Thea's gaze, then turned back, confused; "What clown?"

"He just walked away," Thea fibbed, even as the clown winked at her. An otherworldly trick, though she couldn't sense any in the vicinity.

Her companion accepted her explanation since she faced the window. They focused on their studying. When she looked back up, the clown was gone. Another jester popped up while she was practicing a graphing problem. This one wore a striped suit. Then a third winked in and out wearing oversized shoes as she repacked her bag. She felt no readier for the test than before and when the fourth clown, magenta-haired this time, waved at her, she was ready to throttle the imp playing tricks on her.

 _Help me please,_ a woman pleaded softly. Half-sobbed. Thea whirled around on the street. Other pedestrians walked around her, grumbling. Straining her senses, she couldn't catch the sounds of violence nor the woman's voice again. A particularly busy man clipped Thea on the shoulder. "Umph," she stumbled back a step, then shouted at his back; "Watch it!"

 _Come to play little huntress?_

A cruel, cool voice whispered behind her ear, sending shivers up her spine. She knew that voice. The owner was dead, long dead. Yet even now, she could hear the soft cackle which had nearly preceded her beheading. Thea hunkered her shoulders and walked on. She didn't know what was happening, but she was going to find out. Then whatever otherworldly was causing this, well, they picked the wrong hunter to torment.

A clown with a giant, yellow bow tap-danced in front of Thea as she started across the street. She refused to acknowledge the disturbance, looking over the clown's shoulder. More whispers echoed in her head.

 _You did this to me, you killed me_! Thea clamped her hands over her ears at the reverberations of a scream. She hadn't realized she'd stopped until the horn blared. She looked up. A truck was baring down on her, hitting the brakes but not fast enough.

Then arms wrapped around Thea and swung her out of harm's way. She blinked and there was nothing. She blinked again, and she stood five feet from her previous position, but safely on the sidewalk again. Pedestrians skirted around her with minor scowls. Thea pivoted to face her rescuer. "Ollie, that was risky of you. Someone might have seen."

"No one saw me. What's wrong with you, Thea? What were you thinking?" her brother frowned as he looked her over for obvious injuries.

"I don't know. I'm seeing things, hearing stuff. I need to find the cause."

"Not here. Let's get you somewhere safe."

Safe was home, the mansion. Ollie winged them there once they were out-of-sight of any bystanders. Thea found herself in her bedroom with Ollie ordering her to sit. She begrudgingly obeyed and he took the chair opposite her chaise lounge. He had her go over her symptoms and when they began.

"Are you still having symptoms now?"

 _You saved my brother, why not me?_ Another ghostly voice accused while a child-sized clown hopped on her bed in a rainbow wig. She grimaced. "Yes."

"Then it can't an otherworldly, all of their gifts require close proximity," Oliver stated matter-of-factly. He was more likely to know than her. So far, she'd only dealt with two types of otherworldies who had the necessary abilities and both were dead. "What have you done in the last twenty-four hours?"

Thea thought back. Well, she tried to but then she felt an unexpected biting pressure on her arm. She yelped and yanked back her sleeve, but the skin was unmarred. Another chomp followed, but this time on her shoulder. Ollie was at her side in an instant, wanting to help. "Thea, what is it?"

"Pain, like someone's biting me with razor sharp teeth," she gasped as a phantom mouth clamped down on her thigh, hard. Tears stung her eyes.

"This sounds like magic," Ollie rubbed soothingly at the arm she'd exposed.

"A warlock, I broke into his place, part of a case I'm working with Dinah," Thea muttered as several whisper-voices chuckled at her pain.

"Stay here. Lock yourself in and don't answer to anyone. Your symptoms are only going to get worse. I'm going to Lyla, I'll bring her here directly with a cure," Ollie instructed. It was a sign of his concern that he didn't berated her. She nodded in agreement and understanding. She didn't miss the worry in his eyes before he winged away. This was really bad.

Thea strode to her door and turned the lock. If she started hallucinating too much, then she'd be a greater danger to others than herself. She tried not to think about the fear she'd seen in Ollie. Her brother tried to protect her as much as possible. He helped her train, learning new fighting styles until the moves became muscle memory rather than instinct. He instructed her on the otherworldlies; giving her clues to research, to help her identify creatures she hadn't encountered but might one day. Still, there were things he couldn't shield her from – her destiny to die, for one. Magic was another of his weaknesses.

Another clown joined her, sprawling lecherously on the bed. Voices moaned for help or with indictments. Teeth scraped and bit every inch of her skin. Thea curled up on the chaise lounge, willing it all to stop. Reminding herself she'd been through worse, even if things didn't feel that way in the current torment. Hours passed, the agony growing worse. Then, suddenly, everything stopped. No more teeth against her skin, no more haunting echoes of those she'd fought or couldn't save. A peek between her fingers revealed the clowns had vanished too. Thea uncurled warily – had Lyla cast the cure from afar?

"Did you miss me?" a too-familiar voice cheeked. Thea spun. There he sat with a mocking grin on the chair Ollie had used earlier. Her ex-boyfriend. Chase.

"You're dead," Thea informed him. She stalked forward, towering over him. He was just another hallucination, wasn't he? A blonde-haired, pointy-eared prince with an assassin's charlatan smile.

"Thanks for that," Chase fingered the stitches along his throat; "But didn't you listen when I told you, I'm not that easy to get rid of?"

He struck without warning. He shot off the chair and caught her midriff, plucking her off her feet. With inhuman strength, he tossed her onto her coffee table. Pain lanced her as the wood cracked beneath her back. Thea rolled off the broken furniture and kicked at Chase's shins. He snarled and danced back, then darted for her door. He grinned wickedly: "I think it's time I tell your mom what you truly are."

"Don't you dare!" Thea shrieked and chased him into the hall.

He dashed down the hall and around the corner. Thea pursed. When she rounded the corner, Chase had almost reached the stairs. Thea shouted wordlessly and picked up speed. Chase swiveled around to look at her, pausing. His mistake. Thea caught him and rammed him into the nearest wall, her hands on his throat. Chase grabbed at her hands, fearful. "Thea, stop" his mouth moved, but Thea heard her mom's voice. She smelled her mom's perfume and loosened her hold in confusion. She blinked, and the image of Chase dissolved. Her mom stared fearfully back at her, Thea's hands around her throat. Thea let go immediately, stumbling backward.

"Thea, what's wrong?" Moira reached for her, concerned, but also afraid of her.

Thea didn't know if she was real or not. She didn't stick around to find out. She fled down the stairs and out the mansion.

SR*SR*SR

Dinah pounded on Quentin's door for a good ten minutes before he answered. She heard him growling under his breath as he slid back his chain and unbolted the lock. He glared at her, almost sober for a change. Pity. He was easier to handle when he was drunk.

"I told you to leave me to rot," he said gruffly as Dinah shoved her way into his apartment; "I meant it. Go, live your life, forget about me."

"You also 'meant it' when you confessed you wished it was Sara who lived and me who died. And that I was dishonoring Mom, using my first name as a cop," Dinah brought up some of his more memorable drunken rages. Ones he'd quickly apologized for once he came to his senses and Dinah had absolved him of any guilt. Though the real Laurel would've been cut to the bone, she also would've forgiven her dad's pain.

"I'm a monster to you, yet you keep coming back," Quentin grumbled as she checked his fridge and cupboards, ensuring he had enough food to last another week.

"I've met worse," she drawled, how little he knew; "Face it, Daddy, we're all we've got left in this world. You aren't getting rid of me that easily."

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly, resigned to her continued welfare checks.

"I think it's time you move. Maybe some place closer to me?"

She originally talked him into this apartment because it was closer to her old precinct. Made it easier to check on him during her lunch break and to collect him from the barstools after work. With the witches and warlock onto her investigation, she needed to get her father out of harm's way before she made another move. She'd be of no help to anyone until then.

"If this is about Everett, don't bother. He can bully me all he likes, I'm not leaving unless he puts me in a body bag." That was what she was afraid of happening.

"The crime rate's ticking up in this area," she tried a different approach.

"I know how to defend myself. I own a gun." But no bullets, because she'd removed them all and he'd been too inebriated since then to check.

"Ever think I'd like to have your closer to me," she went for the emotional appeal. She hated emotional attachments.

Before Quentin could argue, Dinah's phone range. Oliver. She answered. And cursed.

SR*SR*SR

Thea could've run into town. She had the speed and stamina, but she drove. She had enough of her faculties to know she needed to conserve her strength and energy for the fight ahead. She also knew to come prepared with defensive and offensive objects. She couldn't wait for Ollie to bring the cure. She needed the hallucinations to stop, pronto. That meant going directly to the source.

She parked next to the apartment. Not caring if she got towed. She located the warlock's place from the outside. She didn't bother asking for an invite. She climbed to the window ledge and kicked the glass in. She dropped into his bedroom – the king-sized bed the giveaway. The warlock wasn't sleeping. Thea stalked out of the room in search of her prey. He exited his workshop, a smile on his face at the sight of the hunter.

"What do we have here?" he cooed.

"Whatever you've done to me, undo it."

"And if I don't?" his gaze hardened. The murderer peeking through.

"You die," Thea answered. His magic, even the imbued portions, couldn't survive without him. Kill the warlock, kill her problems. Simple; straightforward. Thea liked her plan.

"We'll see about that," the warlock held out a hand.

A black cane flew into his hand. He grabbed the handle and a sword slid free of its sheath. _You're going to fail_ , a voice taunted Thea. Then Chase was behind her, reaching for her neck. She ducked Chase and drew her daggers. She charged the warlock even as teeth nipped at her shoulders. Their blades clashed, metal clanging. The amulet around Thea's neck burned, telling her that the warlock was using all the tools in his belt. Clowns gathered around, hemming them in. Thea gritted her teeth and swung again.


	5. Part Five

_Usual disclaimers still apply._

* * *

Part Five

Dinah had kept the _incisura umbra_ on her since Thea handed the demon-weapon over. She wasn't naïve enough to believe the warlock wouldn't come after her elsewhere; to use the element of surprise or public spectacle as a defense. When Oliver called while she was at her dad's, telling her Thea had been cursed and was on the move, she knew the foolish hunter would strike at the warlock, despite her survival chances being nil. Dinah gave Oliver the building address and told her dad to lock his door. Then she headed for the stairs. She slipped the knuckles onto her left hand as she double-timed it. She heard the window break two floors up. Metal clashed against metal as she ran down the hall. Dinah kicked the apartment door open and stepped into the fray.

Dinah would give Thea credit – even hallucinating and tormented, the hunter knew how to fight. Her forms were steady and true, fast and brutal. Bertinelli thrust and Thea parried before arching her dagger around in a side-swipe. The warlock managed to dodge but his left side was exposed. Thea may have taken him out then, if she hadn't been distracted by something only she could see. Ducking a hallucination, Thea swung her dagger at Bertinelli again. He countered and cast a spell at the hunter's feet. Thea's amulet glowed, protecting her, but the ground wasn't so lucky. The flooring exploded and sent her crashing into a wall.

Thea hit her head rather hard. She lost her grip on her blade, then scrambled across the floor as if something else chased her. She didn't see Jerry closing in and preparing to swing at her throat. Dinah had been inching into the apartment, getting closer to join the fight. Now, she darted forward. Caught the warlock's wrist and yanked his blade to the side of Thea's head. The hunter cowered now, curling into the fetal position as the magic overwhelmed her senses. Dinah punched Bertinelli with her left hand, the _incisura_ cutting skin but nothing more.

Magic blasted Dinah in the gut. She flew across the living room. The landing winded her for a second, but she surged back to her feet. The warlock hadn't even cut her with the spell, only put distance between them as he recognized the _incisura_. Dinah could feel the iron knuckles thrumming with power, hungry to complete their purpose. The _incisura_ had tasted Jerry's blood, now it wouldn't be satisfied until it fed on his magic. With a touch of her own power, Dinah activated the _incisura umbra_.

"You expect to defeat me with that?" Jerry laughed. He raised his left hand, pointing an onyx pinkie ring at her. Sword still in his right hand.

Dinah snarled. She wasn't as powerful as most demons, often times this let her do things they couldn't. Yet when it came to demonic weaponry, she was at a disadvantage. Her human form diluted her power even more. She could still activate the _incisura_ , but it would take more than a thought from her to use the weapon as intended. Dinah flashed the warlock a cocky grin and took a step closer.

"Get away from my daughter!" Quentin snapped from the doorway. He entered the apartment, gun trained on a man he believed to be simply human. "Hands up, scumbag. Or I shoot."

Jerry sneered at Dinah. Then he twisted to face Quentin. His onyx ring leveled at the other man's heart.

"No!"

Dinah tackled Bertinelli with all her strength and speed. They rolled into the wall next to Thea, landing right in front of the hunter. Dinah headbutted the warlock, then jabbed him hard in the solar plexus before untangling their limbs and straddling him. She pinned his ring hand above his head. Then she summoned all her power and funneled it into the _incisura_.

Her true form superseded Laurel's body. Doing so stung, like ripping off all her skin with her nails. Her desiccated spirit ached – remembering how it had felt to have flesh and bone, to live and breathe, and to be ripped out of a tortured husk. Dinah clung to her anger before the taste of life could overwhelm her.

The _incisura umbra_ hummed as she brought her fist down. The iron-based knuckles cast out a shadow-blade, which resembled half a jawbone. The blade sucked in everything it touched. First, Jerry's protections wards, shattering them into nothing. Then the vitality of his hand, leaving a withered stump behind. When the blade nipped his onyx ring, his tether to his magic, the power boomed. The burst rattled Dinah's teeth and shook her off him. She lost control of her form and felt her spirit slip back into the protective shell of Laurel's body. Still, the damage was complete.

Jerry gasped, a fish out of water. His eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out. Dinah trembled as she rose to her feet. She brushed her hair back from her face and regarded her father. Quentin slumped against the doorframe, face ashen. When Dinah's eyes, not her true ones, but his daughter's, met his, he shook off his shock.

"Holy –" he aimed his gun at her.

Dinah sighed, raising her hands placatingly. Then Quentin toppled forward. Dinah blinked in surprise until Lyla Diggle appeared in the doorway.

SR*SR*SR

Thea whimpered when Oliver touched her. He frowned and turned to look at Lyla. The witch was warily watching Dinah, who was glaring at her, while John carefully moved Quentin onto the warlock's couch.

"Why isn't she better?" Oliver barked. Both women flickered their gaze to him. Briefly.

"The _incisura umbra_ touched his talisman, sucked all the power out and shattered the ring," Dinah growled, reflexively making a fist with the iron knuckles.

"His ring helped him harness his power, destroying it has permanently severed his connection to his magic, but that power still exists. It will remain always there, present but out of reach until his death," Lyla explained as John moved protectively to her side.

"How do we help Thea then? And all the others affected by his curses?" Dinah asked. Oliver could see she was tempering her anger.

"Lyla has a cure for Thea, I'm sure she can do the same for the rest," John answered softly. Thea groaned at Oliver's side and he carefully reached for her again.

"What do you need me to do?" Oliver asked the witch.

At Lyla's instructions, Oliver and John cleared a space in the living room. Dinah moved out of the way, taking up vigil at her father's side. Once they had enough room for Lyla to walk around, Oliver moved Thea into the center of the space. He held his sister's head in his hands while John knelt at her feet. Lyla directed them to pull Thea out of her fetal position and keep her face up. The hunter fought them, but John and Oliver's combined strength was enough to keep her straight in her delirious state.

Lyla created a circle of salt around the three of them. She remained on the outside and lit a stick of incense with the snap of her fingers. Thea started twitching immediately. Strong spasms that fought against Oliver and John's hold. "Keep her steady now," Lyla cautioned.

Then she chanted, wafting the cleansing scent around. Three times she circled them, counterclockwise. Thea was shaking all over now, trying to slip out of their grasps.

"Hold her harder, Oliver," John grunted, practically lying on Thea's feet.

"I've got her," Oliver replied, pinning Thea across her collarbone with one arm. The other arm he pressed against her forehead. She could gripe about the bruises to him later.

Lyla dropped the remaining incense into a small bowl she'd brought and let it burn out slowly while she picked up a small jar. With two fingers she flicked out droplets of the brew inside, circling and chanting again. Thea fully convulsed, but John and Oliver kept her down. After her second clockwise circuit, Lyla shouted and stepped into the circle. Lyla shoved Oliver back, grabbed the back of Thea's neck and brought the hunter's mouth to the lip of the jar. She forced the remaining potion down Thea's throat. Thea gagged but swallowed. Then she sputtered and gagged again. An inky smoke billowed out of Thea's mouth and was absorbed into the salt. The circle crusted black.

"Don't move," Lyla warned. Then she dumped the incense embers onto the circle.

The tainted mineral burst into flames which stretched waist-high on the sister of the moon. When the fire sizzled out minutes later, the magic remnants were gone, and only a brown circle remained.

"Thank you," Oliver said from the depths of his heart as he and John released Thea.

"You're welcome," Lyla replied, wiping sweat from her brow.

"Are we going to have to do this with all of his victims?" John questioned, stretching overworked muscles.

"No, provided we can locate the representations he used to target the tenants, I can unlink them. With nothing to focus on, the magic will fade in time and so will his victims' symptoms."

"He has a workshop in the second bedroom, it may help you identify who he's targeting," Dinah directed their attention.

The Diggles stepped around the former warlock. Lyla opened the door with magic and they disappeared inside. Oliver considered securing Bertinelli, but even if he'd been awake, he was no longer a threat. Oliver stayed with his sister, who began to stir.

Quentin Lance woke first. He grunted and jerked up, then clutched his head. Dinah moved, to help him up. The moment she touched him, he slapped her hands away.

"Don't touch me, you, thing. I don't know what you are, but you're not my daughter!"

"Dad," Dinah spoke softly, respecting his distance as he struggled to his feet.

"No, you don't get to call me that. You stay away from me, you hear. Or the next time I see you, I'll kill you!" Quentin threatened wildly. He backed out the door and ran down the hall.

Dinah faced the doorway, unable to follow. For a heartbeat, she folded in on herself, forgetting she had an audience. Oliver watched her, wishing he could comfort her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Dinah straightened, and half turned to face him. He could see the scowl forming on her lips before she snapped: "Don't be. He's right. I'm not his daughter." She refused to make eye contact, forcing her voice to get even colder; "It's better this way. At least now I won't have to pretend to care."

She stormed out of the apartment, brushing angrily at her cheeks. Oliver let her go, knowing she wouldn't accept his comfort now. Thea shifted off his lap. Oliver looked down to find his sister staring at the empty doorway, her brow furrowed.

SR*SR*SR

Moira picked him up from the hospital. After lying through his teeth to escape trouble for his self-medicating, Tommy almost wished for Oliver to bring the town car. He didn't want to lie to Moira too. Luckily, the Queen matriarch asked him no questions about his health or stay.

"A nurse from the clinic called, asking about you. She said her name was Susan, she seemed like a lovely young woman, and very concerned about you," Moira commented as if off-hand.

"Susan is only a friend." Tommy wanted to groan.

"I see," his second mother said in a tone which implied she didn't agree; "Well, I think you should call her back when we get home. Let her know how well you're doing now, and maybe you could invite her over for dinner. Raisa's making your favorite."

"Again? Why do I feel like I'm being buttered up for something?"

"Because you are. She doesn't want you to leave any more than I do. We only just got you back."

"I'm not leaving Seattle," Tommy pointed out as the trees began to thin and the mansion drew near. Moira tutted as if that important detail didn't matter; "Would it help if I promised to visit for family dinner once a week?"

"Three times and you have a deal," Moira countered without missing a beat. Tommy groaned good-naturedly but agreed. Moira smiled in delight.

"Would you mind checking on Thea when we get home?"

"Did something happen?"

"Oh, one of her friends convinced her to try some acid, I'm afraid she had a bad trip. She doesn't want to talk about it with me or Oliver, but I thought she might with you," Moira showed no anger about Thea's experimentation with drugs, because she expected it was a phase that would pass just as Oliver's and Tommy's had. Except Tommy doubted Thea had ever dabbled with drugs, her duties as a hunter were too important to her.

"I'll talk with her first thing," Tommy promised. He could see the concern in Moira's eyes despite the calm smile she wore. She thanked him sweetly.

They reached the mansion not long after and Tommy kept his promise. He tracked Thea down in her room where she gave him the uncensored version of events in a vexed tone. Tommy left feeling very guilty, realizing the flickers he'd been getting had been warnings about Thea's case. He returned to his room and tossed the anti-psychotics into his trash bin. They'd proven to be ineffective and far more troublesome than he liked.

He wasn't sold on Oliver's beliefs about his prophet ability. Still, he was done hiding from his fate. Nick Anastas had died because he tried to suppress the visions, hadn't been willing to try and understand his power; Thea had almost died for the same mistake. He wouldn't let that happen again. He accepted he couldn't run away from his visions. What he was going to do about them, he didn't know yet, but he'd take the premonitions one step at a time.

SR*SR*SR

Thea waited on Dinah this time; in the Big Belly Burger close to Quentin Lance's place. She could still taste the charcoal and sulfur from the curse, but otherwise she'd bounced back nicely. Her relationship with her mom would take longer to repair. Moira had already forgiven her even if she wasn't quite over her fright. Thea had yet to forgive herself.

Dinah arrived in a huff. Her nails tapped against the table top and she arched an eyebrow at Thea. "Do you still have the _incisura umbra_?" Thea asked to buy time.

"I'm not in the habit of losing ancient, mystical weapons," Dinah grouched; "I'll give it back to the witch. It's not like I want it."

"Keep it. Lyla can't use it and she said it would work as effectively against witches," Thea interjected quickly. She didn't need to tell Dinah that Lyla had had the _incisura_ when they fought the coven of dark witches – Lyla hadn't trusted the demon back then. Dinah heard the unspoken message and frowned.

"Is that why you drug me out here on my day off?" Dinah demanded rather than let on how she felt about the trust being extended.

"No, I also wanted to thank you," Thea replied sincerely.

"For what?" again, the eyebrow.

"You fought for me. You didn't have to come to me aid, but you did."

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to break-in a new hunter. We've barely got you house-trained as it is," Dinah snarked.

The food Thea had ordered arrived then. Dinah's usual and another's. The waitress handed Dinah her order and gave Thea the other plate. Thea thanked the woman and pushed the food to the side. Dinah looked at her, ignoring the plate, then blinked as she recognized the second order. She scowled at Thea. "What have you done?"

"Your dad will be here soon," Thea shrugged lightly, feeling a touch of butterflies. She wasn't sure how Dinah would react and the hunter-part of her was readying for a fight.

"Thea."

"He doesn't remember. I have a way to make people forget the otherworldly. He's a little confused right now, you'll need to help him fill in the blanks. Pick something believable, to help the memories take," Thea rushed to explain. Not breathing until she finished.

She had to take the memories of her and Ollie, she'd chosen to include the truth about Dinah as well. Lance hadn't been coping well with any of it.

"Why?" Dinah asked after a very pregnant pause of inspecting Thea for subterfuge.

"Because you care about him. You shouldn't lose him over my mistake."

There was something almost human about the way Dinah cared for Quentin. As if she saw him as her own father. Thea had never met a demon who cared like that before.

Thea spotted Quentin on the sidewalk outside the diner. She slipped out of her seat. Started for the door. Dinah grabbed her wrist before she made it two steps.

"Thank you," the detective whispered, her voice breaking.

Thea patted her hand. She passed Quentin on her way out, he barely noticed her polite nod. "Hi, Daddy," she heard Dinah greet hesitantly. "Sweetheart," Quentin rumbled. As the door shut behind her, Thea risked a glance back. She smiled when she saw the two Lances exchanging a hug. In that moment, Dinah seemed very human to the hunter. Thea knew she'd done the right thing, for both of them.

SR*SR*SR

John and Lyla took JJ to the park. They watched their energetic son run around and then join a group of kids his age who were playing kickball. After the last few nights, relaxing on a park bench with his wife was a much-needed tonic. The approach of an angel spoiled the good mood – John tensed, scenting Oliver before he reached them.

"Sorry to bother you," the Queen said, facing the park in dark shades.

"Do you need help with something?" John asked after sharing a look with Lyla.

"I have a warning for you, actually. Helena Bertinelli has escaped prison."

"How?" Lyla inhaled while John was trying to scent Oliver's intentions. The angel and the demon were harder to read than the hunter and the prophet; the otherworldlies could control their borrowed skins better and mask their emotions.

"She killed her cellmate and wore the other woman's face. They thought the cellmate had a psychotic break. Helena escaped while they were transporting her to a psychiatric facility for observation. You should take care."

If Helena had worn the other woman's face, then the authorities believed the daughter of the night dead. Moreover, they'd be searching for the escaped cellmate, which meant once Helena shed her mask, she would be free to roam. John scented a touch of anger off the angel. This development displeased him, though his concern for the Diggles seemed genuine. John acknowledged as much to his wife with a glance.

"Thank you for the warning," John tipped his head. Oliver nodded and moved to walk away. Lyla made a decision.

"Wait. You should know. The night coven knows when the next Convergence will be. They're planning to harness great power that night."

"Are you certain?"

"The spirits confirmed it."

"Did they know what the coven's plan entails?"

"No," Lyla shook her head regretfully; "They only sense that if the coven succeeds, it will bring great evil to our world. They told me the only chance to stop the coven is if I stand with the Elected."

"Will you? Stand with Thea and Tommy?" Oliver clarified. Unsurprisingly, he knew the old moniker for prophets and hunters. John hadn't until Lyla told him.

"I will, this is my home. I'll do what I must to protect it," Lyla answered and the response pleased Oliver though his expression didn't change.

"And she won't stand alone," John added, squeezing Lyla's hand.

"So will I," Oliver smiled grimly. Then he left them to resume their peaceful minute. Well, it was done. They'd now made themselves allies of an angel, demon, and two of the Elected. Hopefully, this decision wouldn't come back to kill them in the end.

SR*SR*SR

Tommy thanked the last of the movers he'd hired to haul his things out of storage. They left, and he was alone in his new apartment. There were more boxes on his platformed living room, the catch-all space for the things he didn't know where he wanted to go. Tommy looked around and sighed at the work ahead of him, but he also relished the challenge. Something normal to do; alone with his thoughts. He carried Nick Anastas with him now, the way he carried all the patients he couldn't save. His profession had taught him how to cope with the death, but Tommy would never forget the man he failed to save because he'd been too afraid.

There was a knock on his door. A light tap, really. Tommy furrowed his brow as he hastened to answer. Had the movers forgotten something? He opened the door and smiled in pleasant surprise: "Mari?"

"Hi, I, uh, heard there was a new neighbor. I thought I'd come see, I'd hoped it was you. And it is," she rambled, tugging at a lock of her hair. Tommy found it endearing.

"How could I resist a place as charming as this?" he flashed her a coy grin. Mari smoothed down the skirt of her dress, blushing. "Well, I just wanted to officially welcome you. I guess I'll be seeing you around?"

As Mari backed up a step, Tommy realized he didn't want to be alone. Not when she was around.

"Would you like to come in?" he invited her on impulse, then it was his turn to ramble; "I mean, my place is a bit of a mess, but you're welcome to visit, if you like?"

"Yes, I'd like that very much," Mari smiled delighted.

Tommy opened his door wider and stepped aside so Mari could pass him. She did, a faint blush still clinging to her cheeks. Tommy decided, he was going to love it here very much.


End file.
